Missing Scene: North Star
by Oldguy73
Summary: I always wondered what T'Pol would say to Malcolm about shooting her at the end of the episode "North Star."  Here's my answer.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I always wondered what T'Pol would say to Malcolm about shooting her at the end of the episode, "North Star." Here's my answer. As usual, I couldn't leave well enough alone, so I added a bit more to the story. I do hope it meets with your approval. Thanks to **jT** as usual. She is a doll.

* * *

"Storm coming," said Trip

"Who will it hit?" asked Malcolm.

""Well, she is glaring at you," said Trip

"Oh, oh."

"What did you do Mal?"

T'Pol walked up to the table and sat down. That was unusual as she always asked if she could join them before sitting down.

"You shot me, Lt. Reed," She said.

"I had to," said Reed.

"You shot her?" said Trip.

"Yes, he did," snapped T'Pol.

"Why?" asked Trip.

"Well you see, this guy had her with his arm around her shoulders and a phaser to her head. He said that he would shoot her if anyone tried anything, or something like that."

"So you shot T'POL?" asked Trip.

"Yes, it was the only way I could think of to stop him," said Malcolm.

""Where was Archer? He usually finds a way to save the day," said Trip.

"'I have no idea," said Malcolm.

"What happened after you shot her?" asked Trip

"He looked stunned," said Malcom.

"What did you do then?"

"Well, I shrugged and shot him."

"Certainly, you could have found another way than shooting me," said T'Pol.

"What did you do then, Mal?" asked Trip.

"I took her back to _Enterprise_ and into sickbay."

"That was considerate of you," said T'Pol, although her tone did not seem to agree with her words.

Trip started to giggle

"What is so amusing about me being shot, Commander?"

"It sounds like a cliché," said Trip.

"Cliché?" asked T'Pol.

"Yeah, in a lot of movies and TV shows of mid-19th century. This scenario was used so much, it became a cliché. There would be a bad guy who had the female lead that way, and he would shout, 'No one move or she dies!'"

"How would this be resolved?" asked T'Pol.

"Oh there might be somebody to the side who would shoot the guy, or someone would walk in, grab the villain's gun hand and wrestle with him. The girl would get away and the bad guy would be subdued. Sometimes the bad guy would drag the girl to the hall, let her go, and run away."

"Why did he let her go?" asked Malcom.

"Guess that's the way the writers wanted it," said Trip.

"This does not excuse you shooting me," said T'Pol. "Why weren't you on the surface, Commander? You might have helped Lt. Reed."

"Cap'n ordered me to stay on the ship," Trip answered. "Why were you on the surface? I would think that the Captain would have taken some security guys and a few MAACOs in case of a fire fight."

"He wanted me on the surface," said T'Pol.

"You know those guys were shooting metal projectiles at you and him. The both of you could have been killed, and then I would be in a mess," said Trip.

"You? How?" asked T'Pol.

"Well, with both of you dead, I would have to come down to the surface, take care of matters, and then bring your bodies back to _Enterprise_. Though, I don't know what I could do with them other then launch them towards the nearest Sun. Then I would have to complete the mission. I would have been "busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest."

"That scenario is illogical and impossible," said T'Pol

"Improbable, I guess," said Trip.

They had been focusing on one another, and T'pol looked around. No Malcolm.

"Where is Lt Reed?" asked T'Pol.

"Guess he thinks that discretion is the better part of valor."

"What does that mean?"

"That he disappears until you cool off."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then: "So you were explaining about clichés," she prompted.

"Oh yeah. One guy uses a certain plot device, another picks it up, others do too, and soon it is done all of the time, until it becomes a cliché."

"Oh, is that the only one?"

"No, there's a lot more."

"Such as?"

"Oh, the interruption."

"Interruption?"

"Yes, a guy and gal are about to say what they really feel about one another, and the telephone rings or the door bell. That interrupts them, and they don't get back to their discussion until the end of the Show. Sometimes other things interrupt, but it is the interruption that counts. It always is when something important is going to be said or to happen."

"And this occurred often?"

"In just about all the films in the late 30's and early 1940's."

"And there are more such clichés?"

"Yes, there is the misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?"

"Yeah, a guy really likes a girl, and he thinks that she likes him. He goes to say so, and she is talking to his best friend in a very friendly manner. He thinks that she likes the best friend better, so he wants to stay away from her so he won't bother them. She likes him and wonders why he is avoiding her. She keeps asking his best friend about it. The guy has decided that he wants to tell her anyway, and comes up to see her talking to the best friend again. He then thinks that she is in love with the best friend. It is always finally cleared up in the end, and the guy and girl go off together. Best friend reveals he is engaged to another girl anyway."

"I supppose that could possibly happen."

"There are some others like "the car won't start." But it would take too long to describe to you. However, if you are interested, I have a large monitor on my computer, and I can get Hoshi to arrange to have some old films or TV shows sent to it. We could watch them. I could get some popcorn, or even better, I can get chef to make us a nice dinner with pecan pie for desert. What do you say? Popcorn or dinner?"

"To see cliches?"

"Yes, you will love them. I promise."

"I would prefer dinner to popcorn."

"I can get Chef to fix one of your favorite meals."

"How long would this take?"

"Well, you come to dinner at six, and after dinner, we watch the films and shows from seven until, oh say, eleven. That will give us time to watch some complete scenes."

T'Pol hesitated. Finally: "It is agreeable."

"Good, I will see you at six. I will have Chef set us a table in my quarters, and we can serve ourselves. Then you can sit in the easy chair, and I will pull up my desk chair next to you to answer any questions you might have."

"Thank you Commander, I look forward to it. I will learn a bit more about humanity this way."

And I will learn more about a beautiful Vulcan, thought Trip.

Trip walked out of the dining hall and hurried to his quarters. He went to his stash of bourbon.

He drank Archer's booze when they watched water polo, but he hoarded his bourbon.

He picked out a bottle of 20-year-old sour mash bourbon. He left his cabin and walked to the galley.

He showed Chef the bottle.

"Who do I have to kill to get that?" asked Chef.

"I want you to make a special dinner for a special friend," said Trip

"OH, what friend?"

"Commander T'Pol."

"I guess I can get some fresh vegetables from the hydroponics deck, but it will cost you."

"What?"

"A pint of that stuff you have in that bottle."

"Shit, okay."

"I will make a cold cucumber soup and a large salad with lettuce, tomato, cucumber, radish, and carrot."

"Pecan pie for desert too."

"All right. What do you want to eat?"

"Some ravioli stuffed with vegetable and some of the soup and a small salad."

"Done."

"Have it in my quarters a bit before six and HOT. Have a table put up and chairs."

"What about a steward?"

"No, we can serve ourselves."

"It will be ready just before six then."

Trip handed him the bottle. "Don't start drinking until you have finished what I asked for. I don't want you blotto."

"I won't."

Trip left the galley, got into the lift, and got out on the Communications Center floor. He walked in and saw Hoshi.

"Hoshi, I need a favor."

"What kind?" she asked.

"I need you to have some TV shows and one horror movie sent to my computer in my quarters."

"We can do that. Why those?"

"Going to show a friend some clichés."

"Friend? What friend"

"T'Pol."

"So you're good friends?"

"We might be after tonight."

"We may not be able to get those after all."

"You just said it would be easy."

"That was before I heard about the friend."

"How does that change things?"

"What is in it for me? Since you stand to profit from this, I should get a little something too."

"Hoshi, you're extorting me?"

"NO, of course not. Just looking out for my interests."

"HOSHI!"

Hoshi smiled. "Gotcha. I will have those things sent down to you as soon as we can get them gathered."

"Can you have them by six tonight?"

"Sure, piece of cake."

"Thanks, I owe you."

"Remember that."

It was an elated Trip who waited in his quarters for T'Pol to arrive. Dinner was on the table. All that was needed was T'Pol.

The door chime rang.

Trip answered the door and T'Pol entered his quarters. She was dressed in a Vulcan robe. She looked radiant.

"You are very lovely tonight, T'Pol"

"Thank you, Commander"

"We should have dinner while it is hot," said Trip

He led her to the table. Against the wall, Chef had put a long cart with serving dishes containing dinner. In front of that was a table and two chairs.

Trip pulled out T'Pol's chair, slid in under her when she sat. T'Pol raised herself a bit and pulled the chair forward a little. Trip sat down across from her.

Chef had gone all out. There were cloth napkins in rings. Trip noticed the service was very good, dished Archer might use to entertain a visiting Admiral. Well, it was Chef's ass not his.

Trip looked at the cart. Below the top was a shelf containing the soup bowls, salad bowls, plates, and dessert plates-two of each.

He took out a soup bowl, lifted the lid from the tureen. Trip stir the soup before ladling out a generous serving for T'Pol and himself. He picked up the soup spoon and took a mouthful of Soup. He watched as T'Pol did the same to see her reaction.

She looked at him.

"Cold Cumber Soup."

"It is delicious. Why doesn't Chef serve it in the Captain's mess?"

"Maybe Archer doesn't like it."

Trip watched as T'Pol consumed her bowl. He ate steadily too. When she finished he said: "There is enough for us to split and have a little more."

"Please," she said holding out her bowl.

Trip gave T'Pol the major portion of the remaining soup and himself the rest.

Trip looked at T'Pol while she ate. She ate daintily. She was so beautiful when her face was in repose like this. He drank in her beauty like a starving man.

_She is Intelligent, exotic, beautiful, and desirable. The kind of woman you always see on the arm of a powerful man. She is not for me. I am just a glorified mechanic._

She has pointed ears, unusual eyebrows, green blood, light bronze skin ... and is the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.

After they finished their Soup, Trip put the dishes on the bottom shelf and took out the salad bowl for T'Pol.

"Can you hold the bowl while I put Salad in it?"

"Of course."

Trip filled her bowl and his small plate.

"What is that odor?" asked T'Pol

"Smells like Italian dressing."

"I always have salad without anything on it. I wasn't aware that Humans put something on their Salads"

"Try it. I think you'll like it."

T'Pol took a tentative bite. It has a different flavor"

"Yes, vinegar, oil, and spices."

"I must ask Chef for some in future."

"There are other dressings too: Russian, French, Caesar, ranch, blue cheese."

"So many?"

"Yup, I think you would like some of the others too. Tell you what, I will ask Chef to give me a small salad every evening in the Captain's mess and ask him for a selection of dressings. You can sample them then."

"That is agreeable"

Trip took out a plate, lifted the lid off his ravioli and took a portion. _Not too large,_ he thought, _Don't want her to think I am hungry hog.  
_  
"What is that?" she asked.

"Ravioli pasta stuffed with vegetables in a tomato sauce. Would you care to try a little?"

T'Pol looked dubious but then said, "I should taste as many Human dishes as I can this evening."

"Good." Trip took the other plate, put a small portion on it, and handed the plate to T'Pol. She took a sip of carbonated water to cleanse her palate and took a bite as he watched. A look of surprise came over her face.

_Well, well. You can show an expression. You just have to be surprised, _Trip thought.

"It is savory."

"Yeah. A pasta is made of flour and water and there are mixed vegetables in each one. The Tomato sauce gives it the savory flavor."

As Trip ate, he watched T'Pol. She concentrated on the ravioli, finishing the plate, and then turned again to her salad. In a minute she asked, "May have some more of the Ravioli if there is enough left for both of us."

"Certainly," Trip took her proffered plate and put a very generous portion of ravioli on it without protest from T'Pol

As T'Pol was finishing her ravioli, Trip said: "Save some room for the pecan pie"

"Pecan Pie?"

"Desert, with tea and coffee."

"Of course. I will remember that."

They finished the meal. Trip cleared the dishes, took two desert plates and the pecan pie, put them on the table. The Pie had a pie Server next to it. Chef had sliced the pie in to eight wedges. Trip put a slice on each plate. He then took out the cups and saucers and poured tea for her and coffee for him. He found the sugar bowl. It had a small pair of tongs clipped to it. There were cubes in the bowl. He put in two. He wanted to say, "Just as I like my women: hot and sweet," but thought better of it.

They ate their pie, and then Trip said, "Might as well sit and enjoy our tea and coffee."

T'Pol looked around the room. "That thing on the shelf," she said pointing to his diving Helmet.

"Hard hat diving helmet. Used to be scuba gear divers wore a rubber suit, iron shoes, a belt with lead weights and that helmet. They got their oxygen from above through a hose attached to the helmet. Also a radio was attached. It wasn't easy walking in that outfit, but that was all they had.

"Scuba?"

"Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus. Comes from old U.S. Navy jargon."

"Have you ever used this breathing apparatus?"

"Scuba lots of times, but never a hard hat."

"Why do you keep one then?"

"I like it."

"Do you have any other artifacts from Earth in your quarters?"

Trip hesitated, "Just a minute. Stay sat down I will be back in a sec."

He went in to his bedroom, opened a drawer and took out something. He walked back to the table and sat down. He had a knife inside a scabbard in his hand.

"Bowie Knife. Eighteen inches long. Thirteen inches of blade and five inches of haft." He took out the knife. The blade shone in the light.

T'Pol looked at it. Strange it has a beauty to it.

"Yes, it is beautiful. This is just a replica. The real one is back on Earth with my family. My oldest brother was supposed to get it from my great grandfather when he died, but he didn't want it so I got it. The blade of the real one is supposed to be made of Damascus steel. This one is made of the finest metal alloys available today."

"May I see it?" asked T'Pol

Trip handed it to her. "Careful it has a Hell of an edge. Very sharp. Watch the top front four inches."

"What is that on top it is a different color metal?"

"Brass, soft metal. Meant to catch and hold an opponent's blade."

"Do you fight with this knife?"

"Well, actually it is very good to have in the wilderness, for skinning an animal for meat. Cutting wood, branches, things like that. But yes it can be used for fighting. I heard of a mountain man fighting and killing a full grown grizzly with one of these. He was pretty torn up himself though."

"But would you fight another Human with one of these?"

"If I had to defend myself, yes."

"Why do you want one here?"

"Actually I want two. I plan to get a belt made for away missions . . . with a holster for a phaser and one of these attached to the belt. It would come in handy if I was ever stranded on a strange planet. I plan to fix the haft so you twist off the top and there is a compass, Screw off the compass and inside the haft will be a stone to home the blade. Some matches. Also fish hooks and a long line that could be used to snare small animals."

"That would be logical."

"Well at lest it would give me a chance if I was stuck on a planet"

T'Pol was turning the knife admiring it.

"Would you like one of those too?"

Trip could tell by her eyes that she wouldn't want one to kill with, but she might want to wear one with her uniform.

"Why two?"

"The other one, I would keep one in my quarters. If we are ever boarded a Phaser and one of these could make a hell of a difference."

"Oh, I didn't think of that."

"Yes, purely for defense."

T'Pol handed back the knife.

_Guess what you are going to get for Christmas? Two of these and I will teach you how to use them. If any MAACO or Security guy tries to teach you first, he is going to be scrubbing deck plates for the rest of the mission,_ thought Trip

Trip took the knife, put it back in to its sheath. "Just a minute," he said

When Trip returned he commed the galley. "Can you have three stewards come right away to pick up the cart and the table and chairs?"

"Yes, sir," came the answer. "Right away."

A few minutes later the door chime rang. T'Pol said, "Excuse me," and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

_Smart woman. She doesn't want the stewards to know who I am having dinner with,_ thought Trip. He opened the door to his bedroom so the stewards could look in there too. "Come in," he said.

The stewards entered, they looked around as they put the chairs on top of the table. They carried the table and pushed the cart out of the door, which Trip closed. He knocked on the bathroom door. "They are gone."

T'Pol came out of the bathroom.

"Let me put the easy chair and my desk chair side by side, and we can look at the clichés I promised you. I can answer any questions you may have."

They watched the clichés that Trip had bookmarked ahead of time, so they wouldn't have to sit through entire shows. T'Pol made comments and asked questions. It was nearly eleven when they finished. T'Pol was in the easy chair. She was leaning against the back, completely relaxed. Trip was leaning toward her from his desk chair. She was looking up at him.

"When you showed me the cliché "the car won't start," why is it that the car wouldn't start when the villain was about to capture the woman, but afterward the hero rescued her, her car started right up?"

"That is the way it was in those horror films then."

"The interruptions and the misunderstanding could be possible, but they seem difficult to believe."

"Think about it. Have you ever been interrupted that way?"

"I shall have to meditate on that."

Trip wanted more than anything to take her in his arms. She was so appealing the way she was leaning against the back of the chair so relaxed.

T'Pol stood. "I must go. It is late, and you need to sleep."

"No, I don't need that much sleep, honest."

T'Pol walked to the door, turned and said, "I understand that it is polite to return a gesture like this invitation tonight. Perhaps I can have Chef prepare a typical Vulcan meal and you might select a film to view. Next Saturday night?"

"Not sure Chef will do that without some encouragement."

"Encouragement?"

Trip knew he was blushing. "I wanted the dinner tonight to be very special for you, so I bribed Chef with a bottle of my best hooch."

"Hooch?"

"Yes, My best Bourbon. You might need something equally valuable."

"I am afraid I do not have anything like that. Not even Vulcan Ale."

"You can have a bottle of my Bourbon. It will be for a good cause."

"You will do that for me?"

"Sure will. I can bring the bottle to you a few days before you need to give it to chef."

"Then it is agreed. Thank you."

Trip knew he could totally kill everything great about the night if he did what he was thinking, but the words slipped out anyway: "There is an old Earth tradition. If a guy shows a girl a good evening, and she is really enjoying herself, she might show her appreciation by kissing him good night."

"A tradition?"

"Yes a very old one."

"I would not want to violate tradition," said T'Pol stepping near Trip.

Trip threw caution to the winds. _Might have to kiss tomorrow goodbye as well, but I am going to kiss her right now. _He took her in his arms, lowered his head, and pressed his lips against hers.

She responded. It was a long tender kiss. They broke as if by mutual agreement. Trip continued to hold her.

"Did that honor tradition?" asked T'Pol.

"Yes," breathed Trip. His head swirled, but he was in heaven.

T'Pol touched his arms and he dropped them away from her.

"Then I must say good night. Next Saturday?"

"It's a date."

She left, and Trip walked into walls on his way to the bedroom. He stripped, put on his pajama bottoms and went to bed. His dreams were the best he ever had.

* * *

_Finis_


	2. Chapter 2

**Missing Scene: North Star**

**By Oldguy73**

**Rating:** PG

**Author's Note**_: This is the second installment of the missing scene from "North Star." The first ended sweetly, but this one will be bittersweet. I have taken some liberties because there is nothing in the series to suggest they ever had two dinners or kissed afterward. But how can one be Romantic without a little hug and a kiss? Thanks to Brandyjane for editing and commenting. All errors are mine. SB_

Trip got off the lift at the Communications floor. He walked into the Comm Center. It was before shift change, and Hoshi was busy with scheduling and other managerial tasks.

"Hi, Hoshi," Trip said.

"Good morning, Commander. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I just wanted to see a well-run section. Your people are some of the best trained and most competent on board."

"What do you want?" Hoshi asked suspiciously.

"Told you, just looking," Trip said innocently.

Hoshi smiled. "Flattery will work, but so will bribery."

"Bribery? I'm not sure what you mean," Trip answered, grinning.

"Yeah, you already owe me. I know you want something, so a little gift _might_ be appreciated. What do you need?"

"What gift?"

_Enterprise_ had a small Exchange where the crew could purchase things like toothpaste, tissue, and a few other items. Space was very restricted, but it was believed that the exchange was good for morale.

"The Exchange has a bottle of sake. What they want is a little dear for an ensign," Hoshi replied.

"Bottle of sake? What for? You are _not_ the drinking kind," Trip said with a laugh.  
"It would make us square. You owe me for the last week's TV shows and that film. Whatever you want this week included should do it. What do you need?" Hoshi asked, a little exasperated at having to ask so much.

"I want a film to show in T'Pol's quarters, on her monitor."

"What film?"

"I don't know. Westerns are out, too violent. Musicals - she wouldn't understand them. War movies - again, too violent. Perhaps a good romance?"

"Such as? I need more than that," she retorted.

"Dunno, I'm more of a horror film buff."

"You have to give me some hint."

Trip looked a little perplexed. He hadn't really thought about it until now. "You're female. You should know better than me."

"How about a screwball comedy? They had romance, excitement, funny good friends, and some of your clichés."

"You know any good ones?"

"Well, there are one or two that are heavy on the romance but are still comedies."

"Pick a good one and send it down to T'Pol quarters."

"Bottle of Sake?" Hoshi reminded him.

"Yours. Promise."

"Then the movie will be there. Bring the bottle around before this evening. You are not the only one who's planning dinner with a friend," Hoshi teased, smirking.

"Malcolm?"

"Malcolm is a Scotch man."

"Who, then?"

"None of your business. But there is a young Japanese male in the Science section who is _very_ _interesting_."

"Okay. I will get that bottle to you before your shift ends."

"So, long Commander. I hope she likes the film."

Trip purchased the Sake and was stunned at the price. He gulped, but he paid it. _I hope T'Pol appreciates what I had to pay for this evening. A bottle of my best Bourbon, that Sake! _he grumbled to himself.

Trip, showered with unscented soap, shaved, brushed his teeth, and gargled with mouth wash. _Dammit, that stuff not only tastes bad, it smells, too._ He rinsed his mouth until he could no longer feel the mouthwash. He tried cupping his hands over his mouth and breathing into them. _No odor, but that doesn't mean anything. _I_ probably wouldn't smell it.  
_  
Trip's gray outfit had been stolen on Risa. He put on his blue one instead: trousers, jacket, and a light blue shirt that matched his eyes. He wore a pair of black Oxford shoes. He inspected himself carefully in the mirror. His hair was combed; his outfit fit well. He didn't use an aftershave or cologne, so what she smelled this evening would be pure Trip. He guessed he was ready. He turned out the lights of his quarters, left, closed the door, walked across the hall, and rang her door chime.

T'Pol heard the chime. She checked herself in her full-length mirror behind the bathroom door. She wore a maroon Vulcan robe which accented her light bronze skin and her russet hair. She walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She answered the door, opening it to see Trip standing there.

He was handsome, with his blonde hair, blue eyes, and the small smile on his lips. The blue outfit he was wearing suited him, especially the shirt.

"Come in, Commander. You are looking well this evening."

"Thanks, so do you. That robe, it's another one. You had a different one on last week."

"Yes, I have three with me."

"I'd like to see the other one, too."

"You may, sometime."

"I look forward to it."

"Shall we dine? The food is still hot."

Again chef had put a long cart against the wall, a table and chairs in front of it. Again he had gone all out: cloth napkins in rings, a different table service. _Archer is going to be pissed if he ever finds out that Chef used his personal table services. Still, it's Chef's ass_.

Trip wondered what they would be eating. _Broth, of course, but what else? _Trip again held T'Pol's chair while she sat, and then he sat across from her. This time T'Pol was the hostess, so she served. No broth. Instead she opened a serving dish and spooned what looked like a dry stew onto the plates.

Trip picked up his fork and tasted. It was very savory, and it had a tang to it. The vegetables were unfamiliar but were good. One seemed close to a potato, and Trip wondered what it would be like fried. He ate with gusto, not expecting Vulcan cuisine to be this good.

"This is great."

"I helped Chef prepare it. He is learning to prepare Vulcan meals for me, but I wanted this dinner to be just right."

"You cook?"

"Yes, it was one of the things I learned while growing up."

"Wonderful." The meal continued with different dishes and different vegetables. "Where did you get these vegetables?"

"On the hydroponics deck is a section reserved for growing some Vulcan vegetables for me. The Captain ordered it so I could have some reminder of home."

"That was nice of him."

When the meal was finished, T'Pol said, "We do not have desserts on Vulcan, so we must have a Human one." She reached down and lifted up a pecan pie. "Do you mind?"

"Not at _all_!"

T'Pol served them each a slice and put the plate in front of Trip. While he was eating his pie, she observed him.

He was handsome. He radiated strength. When he had held her last week she felt his hard and muscular body and arms. He had held her gently though.

He was brilliant, but he hid it.

He was the most respected and liked officer on _Enterprise_. His engineering staff was fiercely loyal to him, and the rest of the crew was, too. They respected him not for his rank but because he was a natural leader.

He had great moral and physical courage. That was proved by his stance on the Cogenitor, and it was proved once again by his refusal to leave the Alien on that moon until a rescue that came at the risk of his own life.

He knew his own worth and was confident in it.

But most of all, he had offered her friendship. He welcomed her and tried to assist her in fitting in with the crew. She could turn to him when stressed. He had helped her bear the burden of loneliness because she was an outcast on her own planet after P'Jem and because she was the only Vulcan on _Enterprise_.

Trip looked up and saw her observing him. He smiled.

_That smile makes one want to like and trust him_. He drew people in like a magnet. They _wanted_ to be his friend. He was open outwardly, but enclosed within himself was another man.

But he was Human and she was Vulcan. The divide was too far; they could never be.

They finished desert, and she cleared the table and poured coffee and tea. Then they sat back to enjoy being together.

"Do you have any artifacts from Vulcan in your quarters?"

T'Pol hesitated for a long moment. "Just a minute." She got up from the table and returned shortly with a holophoto. She handed it to Trip

The photo was of a Vulcan man. What surprised Trip was the warmth in his eyes. They were not at all like T'Pol's eyes, which never revealed anything.

"My father. I adored him." She paused. "I still do," she said in almost a whisper.

"Who is he looking at?"

"Me. My mother created the holophoto and my father was looking at me at the time. I was very young."

"Where is he? Back on Vulcan?"

"He disappeared when I was very young. We do not know what happened to him. He was the reason I joined the Intelligence Section. I knew that there were files that might have information about him, but they were restricted to the highest levels of the Intelligence Service and the High Council. I was never able to gain access to them. Then I failed in a mission and was dismissed from the Intelligence Service. But it was just as well. My assignments were getting more dangerous each time. I was afraid that someday I would be violated. I would have resigned anyway."

"So, you still don't know what happened to him or if he is even alive."

"At times, when I am meditating, I feel he is alive, somewhere."

"That is a shame, not knowing. Can't you get anything from the higher ups?"

"No, I meet a wall of silence whenever I try to gain information."

"Your Father..."

"He was a noble in our Clan. That is why I am known as Lady T'Pol within the Clan. He was a True Vulcan. In his Clan, when a noble child is born, the foremother tries to be in attendance. She verifies that the child is of pure Vulcan stock. The mother's background must be pure Vulcan, too. My father's background goes back several generations on both his father's and his mother's sides. In my mother's Clan, a certified Vulcan doctor and priest verify the child is pure Vulcan. That is so there in no chance of alien or Fallen Vulcan blood in our line. I am pure Vulcan."

"Fallen Vulcan?"

"Yes. It is believed that many centuries ago some Vulcans with ridges on their foreheads left Vulcan because they did not follow our traditions and beliefs. They did not purge emotions and control them. They were considered fallen."

"That is interesting, Your Ladyship."

"Father did not want me to be betrothed. He thought that I should meet the male who had been chosen, that we should become acquainted to see if we were compatible. If we were compatible, then we would be betrothed. But it would be my choice. My mother was against that - she is very traditional. When my father disappeared she told his Clan she was going to betroth me to Koss. They had to accept it because it was custom and tradition."

"So if your father had not disappeared, you might not have been engaged to Koss."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not."

Trip could tell that T'Pol was becoming uncomfortable with the conversation and that she had told him more than she would have told anyone else onboard.

"Shall we watch the film?"

"As you wish."

They watched the film, T'Pol again asking questions and commenting.

Trip explained, "Screwball comedies made no sense, but they were popular when times were very hard, and they allowed people to forget their troubles for a short time. Harmless fun."

T'Pol stood, "It is late. You should leave, as you need rest."

"Running me off, are you?"

"No, it is logical." She seemed to wait for something. "Is it only the females who show appreciation for the evening?"

Trip didn't have to be hit over the head. He took her in his arms and kissed her. Only this time she responded by putting her arms around him and pulling him closely to her. When they broke the kiss she held on to him. He held on, too.

"_T'Pol_."

She felt a surge of desire but quickly submerged it. "Someday I shall choose the male who will be my life's mate."

"You're going back to Vulcan then?"

"He may be Vulcan or he may be another species."

"Another?"

"But not Andorian, Tellarite, or any other."

"That leaves Humans."

"It is possible."

_Human? Hell, it could be Malcolm, Travis, Archer or some guy she hasn't even met yet. _

"When..."

"I do not know. It is in the future. But when I choose, it will be for life. All Vulcan women do that. When she marries and bonds it is for life, unless her mate dies or is killed."

"What then?"

"She may take another mate, but that is unusual. She simply lives her life as a celibate and continues her journey."

"T'Pol, why are you telling me this?"

"So you will understand what my future will be and what choices I must make and why."

"Do I fit in there?"

"I cannot say. I make no promises. You may, but that is for the future to determine."

She stepped back, looked at him. "Do not ask me anything more. I cannot tell you the future. I cannot promise anything. I don't know. Forgive me for speaking about it."

Trip was confused. He knew he had better leave before he did or said the wrong thing. "I will see you tomorrow morning for coffee?"

"Of course, Commander. At our usual table."

Trip turned to leave. T'Pol put a hand on his arm and said one word: "Someday."

Trip left, crossed the hall, and entered his quarters. He took off his clothes and put on his pajama bottoms.

_What in _hell_ did she mean? She didn't say it would _not_ be a Vulcan, but she said it _could_ be a Human. Who?_ Trip went through the names. Malcolm? No, definitely not him. Travis? She would want a man more dynamic male. Archer. He acted like he thought he was a child of Destiny, but he had his sights on another goal. She would not be content to be window dressing for him, to stand always in his shadow. She would want a partner. A man she hadn't met, then. Powerful. The kind of man who would compliment a woman like her.

_Me? No, I am a glorified mechanic, a grease monkey. I don't deserve her kind of woman. She is far above me. I can just see us. People would talk: 'He has grease under his fingernails, oil on his knuckles, he smells of lubricant.' _She would become aware of that and move away from him. He could never win her. He should stick to his own level and to Human females, not one who was so intelligent, had such an exotic beauty, and moved with such grace and sureness. _Lady T'Pol and a guy who would be fumble-fingered and stumble over his own feet? She is not for me, never will be. What can I offer her? Nothing._

Trip stood. He wanted to pound his fist in to the wall until the pain in his hand overcame the sickening pain inside him. He sat, buried his face in his hand and said, "Someday."

T'Pol called the galley and had the stewards come to take away the cart, table, and chairs. She undressed, showered, put on her pajamas, and then she took out her meditation pillows, lit the candles, and sat down to meditate. She calmed her breathing and her thoughts. She found herself in a bed. There was a male next to her, but his shape wavered so that she could not tell who it was. His hand held her, but she could not feel his touch. She tried to move closer to him but could not. She strained but saw nothing of him, just sensed his presence. Then she was back in her room. She relaxed again and tried once more to meditate.

She was kneeling. It was a Vulcan bonding ceremony; she was getting married. Again she could not make out the shape of the male - it wavered. She could not see his face or his body or feel his touch. Her arms were held out and two fingers were extended, meeting his, but still she could not feel them. She looked around. She saw her father as he looked in the holophoto. His eyes were warm and he seemed to approve of something. Her eyes moved to the right and a few feet away her mother stood rigid, her face and eyes unreadable. T'Pol again turned to look at the male, but he wavered and then she was back in her room. She was breathing rapidly and her heart rate was fast. She wanted to go back, but she could not meditate again.

She stood, blew out the candles, put away the cushions, and sat on her bunk. She thought of what she had just seen. Something was wrong. She had been mating before the bonding ceremony. No Vulcan male would do that. He would insist on bonding before mating. It couldn't be a Vulcan then.

A Human, but who? Tucker? Archer? A male she had never met? Her mind was in turmoil. Then T'Pol did something she had never done before. She prayed.

She had heard that the Vulcan Church believed in one Creator who had made the Universe, all of it, and controlled the destiny of all creatures in the Universe.

"Lead me on the correct path to the male who will be my life's mate."

She waited, but there was no revelation. Nothing. Just herself in her quarters.

She could not think clearly. What if she approached him and he thought that she had selected him, and then they found that they were not compatible and she ended it? He would be terribly hurt, and she did not want that. She could not ask his advice, because again he might think that she had chosen him, and she had not. She would again hurt him, having to tell him he was not her life's mate.

She was torn between the desire for him and the fear that she would destroy him. What could she do? Then one word came in to her mind:

"_Someday_."

Finis.


End file.
